


Prophet Trottimus: Deaths

by black_sunset_eyes



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, Yogscast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 04:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6407977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_sunset_eyes/pseuds/black_sunset_eyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a little description for the creative ways in which Prophet Trottimus can indeed die. Different versions per paragraph(s) and more will be added in the future probably. Feel free to give me some ideas or even write your own.</p><p>Roleplay with Prophet Trottimus here: http://prophettrott.tumblr.com/</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prophet Trottimus: Deaths

Sjin's gloved hand swung down, pulling Trottimus up by his messed, chocolate brown hair, chuckling to himself. He gazed out to the crowd who stood silent, waiting to see what was going to happen to the Prophet who they had been told stories about so many times before. How he lied and deceived, punished without reasoning. Sjin unsheathed his silver blade, holding it up for the crowd to see, tiny gasps filling the air. Trottimus, his golden eyes dimmed, his tusks snapped, his clothes torn and freckled skin bruised breathed out. This was it. He was going to die. The Hand no longer by his side made him powerless. The destruction he had caused rotted his mind to the point of allowing himself to become a revenge seeking scum of the realm for nothing. He was going to die in front of a crowd to their God Sjin whilst the other Demi-Gods watched on.

He sniffled, casting his eyes to his old friends. His dearest friends. They looked away. Trottimus went to hang his head but yelped when it was tugged on roughly by Sjin. The tip of the blade pierced his back so slowly that he whimpered out in pain. Sjin forced it in till the blade stuck through the other side of his chest, red blood running down it, dripping off the sides. "Now tell me, Trottimus, what colour is the blood on this sword?"

"Red."

"So what does that make you my dear boy?"

"A mortal."

"A mortal indeed." Sjin laughed out, the crowd erupting into cheers as the blade was pulled out, Trottimus crippling over onto the floor, blood seeping from his wounds, decorating the ground around him.

* * *

 "The Hand never lies! I never lie!" Trottimus screeched at the top of his lungs, fury flaming in his golden eyes, golden tears running down his cheeks. "You don't know, you don't worship this God like I do. My tongue will not lie again, ever." The Prophet's hands summoned to balls of golden energy, preparing to hurl them towards Xephos when they died out. Cuts began to appear on his palms, on his face, everywhere. He stared up, the cuts growing larger, becoming deeper. "No, no, no.." Trottimus muttered out, pain surging through his entire body, his voice growing, crying out for forgiveness. "I didn't lie! I swear, Oh Great One, I didn't lie, I didn't lie, oh please, spare my soul!" Trottimus curled up, collapsing onto his knees.

All fell silent suddenly. Trottimus' body froze. He began to get smaller, frailer then all at once he transformed to dust and vanished. Two golden spheres remained, clinking together when they collided. Xephos bent down and picked them up, slipped them into his pocket and walked away.


End file.
